I keep an open mind when it comes to ghosts, spirits, hauntings and the like….in my opinion there’s so much we DON”T know about life and death. Friends and family members have seen things, felt things, heard things…and a few times I have too. My mom and I have gone into estate sale houses…looked at each other, and walked back outside. There was just…something….there. Something not good. And we could feel it. It’s only happened a couple of times over the many years we have gone out. And once I went into the basement of an estate sale house and immediately needed to leave. Something BAD had happened in that basement. I don’t know what and I don’t know when and I truly do NOT want to know. I just had to leave.
Last week my friends Robin and Pam and I went to Savannah, Georgia for a couple of days after attending the big Atlanta Gift Market. I had been there once before and loved it and we all were excited to explore the beautiful city. On our second day we were driving around one of the squares and we saw an “Antiques” sign on one of the houses. Vintage is our life! The entrance was in the basement and the minute we entered we were entranced by all the lovely unusual pieces of furniture and bric-a-brac. It was so full of furniture there were just narrow aisles and lots of tiny rooms here and there, all full of furniture. True antiques….with hefty price tags reflecting their heritage.
There were two men working in the basement and they told us there were two floors above to explore and to please keep the basement door shut to help with the heat. So we headed upstairs. The first story had 20 foot ceilings and rooms that must have been glorious back in the day…but paint was peeling everywhere and mold climbing the walls. And furniture piled on top of furniture with barely room to move…just more narrow walkways. So many lovely pieces of furniture….armoires from the 18th century, 150 year old hand-carved chairs…old mirrors and tables and buffets….one exquisite expensive piece after another.
On one hand, the peeling paint and decrepit grandeur added a certain atmosphere to the house….but I couldn’t help wondering what the mold and unheated rooms was doing to all the beautiful furniture.
I have rarely seen so many unusual pieces of furniture in one place…it was fascinating…but as I moved from room to room something was bothering me…it was on the fringe out there…something didn’t feel right….but I wasn’t paying much attention to it because the house was so enthralling.
There was a staircase up to the second floor. We headed up.
The second floor was very much like the first floor…with crowded furniture and peeling walls…but the ceiling was in worse shape…with plaster missing in places. As we walked around…the feeling grew much stronger. It’s hard to describe. It was a strong feeling of sadness. And it grew and grew. It got to the point where I wasn’t looking at the furniture any more. My friends were having a great time looking and oohing and awwwing…and I …just had to leave. I couldn’t stay one more minute. It wasn’t that I felt anything bad or evil. But I did feel something…and I didn’t want to feel it anymore.
My friends didn’t feel anything like I did. Is the house haunted? Are there lingering emotions? I simply don’t know. I don’t get claustrophobic….so it wasn’t that. There just isn’t a good explanation. I just know I was much happier once we were standing outside the house.
Penelope's Musings 